To Catch my Breath
by Kreek
Summary: A ‘What if’ story from ‘Omaha Tiger’.What if there was no bomb, but the door had stayed locked?


**Disclaimer**: the characters of Starsky and Hutch are not mine. No money is being made from this.

**Special thanks** to my two incredible betas Cindy E and Elsa, without you two, writing wouldn't be as educating as it is now.

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_A 'What if' story from 'Omaha Tiger'.  
What if there was no bomb, but the door had stayed locked?_

For Starsky's Strut

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To Catch my Breath**  
By kreek©januari05

**Chapter 1**

_Eight point five, eighteen hundred and fifty or was it one hundred and eighty five?_

He couldn't figure it out. Hutch was sitting on the floor with his long legs stretched out across the concrete, jammed into the small corridor that led up to the locked inner door. He was barely aware of the loud noises coming from the adjacent machine room, where massive pumps crammed the large and filthy space. He didn't even notice Starsky pushing his legs out of the way.

Completely engrossed in the little notebook, Hutch was determined to find out how much air they had left as he and Starsky had managed to get themselves locked in an airtight room. He cursed to himself when all the numbers he had written down so carefully were turning into a mathematical problem that just didn't make any sense. He had just decided to do his calculations all over again when his partner's loud roar made him look up in surprise.

Starsky came running up to him, both hands clenched to a trolley which he had stacked with heavy equipment. Hutch followed his partner with a dumbfounded look as he ran past him through the corridor and slammed the entire contraption full-force into the sturdy iron door.

The door failed to budge even one inch. A pain-filled yell reverberated through the corridor as Starsky collided with the trolley. His partner sank to the ground, heaving, trying to catch his breath. "Well, guess it's your turn now, blondie."

Hutch lowered his notebook. "What are you doing? That door's solid iron, a cart like that is not gonna-"

"I was tryin' to get us outta here, partner! And you're not helpin' any! What good's all this calculatin' gonna do us in a couple of hours?"

"Starsk." Hutch rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Will you calm down please? No reason to be so pessimistic. We've still got plenty of air right now." He locked eyes with his partner, who presented him with an angry outburst.

"I'm not being pessimistic! I'm being realistic here, pal! Tell me, exactly how much time do we have left?"

For a second Hutch was tempted to lie to his partner, telling him that it would be weeks before the air supply would run out. However, the thought never took on full shape. As much as he wanted to protect him, lying would only make matters worse. "Near as I can figure, we either got eight point five, one hundred and eighty five, or eighteen hundred and fifty hours before the air runs out in here."

Starsky stared at him. "Can you be a little more specific?"

"Nope."

"Great. Guess we'll have to find out the hard way. Okay, Mr. Optimistic, you just stay there sitting on the ground, and I'll find us another way out." He dragged himself off the floor and started pacing toward the pumps and the other locked door that led out onto the streets.

Hutch shook his head. "You know, you'll use up a lot less air if you stop moving around," he said in a pedantic tone of voice.

Starsky shot him a 'don't do that' glare and carried on what he was doing, checking out the pipes that ran through the room from ceiling to floor. "I'm not gonna sit here waiting, Hutch, forget it." He went over the entire room and found nothing. Not a crack, no air vents. No air.

Agitated by the zero result he turned to his partner. "Next time, buddy, try callin' in our location before we head into a spooky factory."

Hutch stared at his partner, who at this point stood near one of the main pumps. "Me? I was the one who got floored by Eddie the Tiger remember, if anyone should have thought about it it's… Aw, forget it Starsk." Hutch realized Starsky was just being hot tempered. Waiting for death to arrive just wasn't Starsky's style. For that matter neither was it his. He stretched his neck, trying to loosen up cramps shooting through muscles that had been severely molested by Eddie.

Starsky noticed and his attention switched from the pump to his partner in an instant. He walked over to him, his voice sounding soft and caring. "Hey, you think that maybe if we yell loud enough, Huggy can hear us?

Hutch smiled at his partner's sudden change in behavior. Starsky's softer side still managed to catch him off guard. He shook his head, hating to let his partner down. Although Huggy was somewhere on the same grounds that they were, he might as well be on the moon. "The room's air tight, buddy. No air, no sound."

"That's great. That's just great." Starsky dropped himself onto the floor next to his partner. He eyed one of the iron wheels attached to the pipes. "How 'bout I turn one of those wheels? You think that'll alert someone?"

Hutch glanced sideways, observing the pipes with a scrutinized look. "I don't know, this room's probably air tight for a reason, some of the chemicals in those pipes must be pretty volatile when air-born." He absentmindedly started to rub his neck again.

"Hey, you okay?"

Lowering his arm, Hutch nodded. "Yeah, I'm all right. You know, Eddie could have easily killed me if he wanted to."

"I know," Starsky stated coldly.

Hutch looked at him, the chill in his partner's voice not really surprising as he remembered Starsky's sudden angry outcry when Eddie almost choked Hutch to death in the wrestling ring. Starsky abruptly changed the subject while looking up at the ceiling. "We got night shift, it won't be until tomorrow before people find out we're missin'."

"We'll have to wait it out partner. Look, didn't the army teach you what to do in situations like this?"

Starsky threw both hands in the air. "Yeah, yeah, try not to move, use as little air as possible; take slow, deep breaths until someone finds you, hopefully in time. It's just that… Hutch, what if they never find us? What if we're never gonna get out of here?"

Hutch frowned. This didn't sound like the optimistic David Starsky he knew. Even in the most extreme of circumstances Starsky still managed to keep his cool. It was what made him such a good cop. Yes, his partner was afraid of heights, but he was not claustrophobic. With instant clarity Hutch knew Starsky was keeping something from him.

"Wanna tell me what's bothering you?" Hutch asked straight out when his partner finally fell silent. The hissing of steam escaping the pipes suddenly filled the room. It swirled around and settled on the floor, covering it with a thin white layer of mist, a clear sign that the air began to lessen.

"Nothin'," his partner answered just a little too fast. "Will you quit staring at me? All right, we wait… Okay? We wait."

That wasn't what Hutch wanted to hear. But when Starsky was in a stubborn mood like this, he knew better then to try and pull some answers out of him. So he let it go. The subject would surface sooner or later. He nodded and slapped a hand on his partner's leg. "Okay, we wait."

Starsky glared at him and then sat back. "Okay."

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**  
Chapter 2**

"Hutch?"

"Yeah?"

A short-winded voice came back. "Guess it was eight point five hours, huh?"

Steam now covered the entire floor and began to work its way up along the walls. It left a film of water drops on each man's skin. Shadows began to fade and everything began to look ghostly white.

"Yeah." Hutch answered, worried and glanced sideways. Starsky had his knees raised to his body and his hands locked in front of them. His head was resting on his arms as he was trying to breathe from a steam-free pocket of air he created between his knees and body. All Hutch could see was a mass of wet dark curls.

They'd been in here for six hours now and the air had begun to feel thin, but using a meditative technique to do so, Hutch was still able to breathe more or less regularly. He had tried to teach it to his partner, but obviously Starsky didn't fare so well in applying it, finding it harder to breathe with every passing minute.

"Starsk," Hutch said slowly, trying to conserve the air in his lungs by not speaking too quickly. "Try to inhale deeply, then hold it for a second and exhale again."

"Can't," his partner's short, muffled answer came from between his arms.

"Try."

"Can't!" Starsky said fiercely and looked up. "It hurts."

"Hurts?" Astonishment riddled his voice as the words slowly sank in. He sat up straight and turned to face his partner. Hutch knew Starsky had received a bullet wound in his back at Giovanni's Restaurant a while back. It had kept him short of breath for a while, but he had recovered. He'd passed the medical exam that let him back on the streets. He should be able to breathe as easily as Hutch did, but he couldn't.

Starsky gave him a confessing look and then shrugged under Hutch's accusing stare.

"Hurts how?" Hutch demanded, trying to keep his voice low. He didn't quite succeed. It came out as an angry hiss. "You never told me you still hurt!"

Starsky gave a grim smile. "And I wouldn't have, if we hadn't gotten stuck in here, blondie."

"It hurts to breathe in deeply?"

Starsky nodded.

Hutch sat back again, resting his head against the wall. He sighed. "How long? Ever since the shooting?"

His partner shook his head. "No… Yeah. Well… It kinda got worse last night when-"

Hutch froze, his eyes large with surprise as he finished the sentence. "When I decked ya?"

"Yup."

His mouth fell open as he recalled the fun-filled wrestling experience they'd found themselves in inside the wrestling ring yesterday. Hutch had successfully floored the smaller New Yorker. With a sinking feeling he realized that this was what Starsky had been trying to hide from him. "Why the hell didn't you say anything? My God Starsk, you know I never would've…!"

"And steal your moment of glory?" Starsky peered at him.

Hutch gaped at him. "You can stuff my moment of glory Starsky! I could've seriously hurt you!"

"Come on, Hutch. I wasn't going to let you treat me like a piece of glass! It'll pass! It'll heal!"

"If we can get out of here in time!"

"Now who's the pessimist here?"

The heated conversation had left them short of breath and they both fell silent for a while. Hutch cursed inwardly at his headstrong partner and chastised himself for not realizing sooner that Starsky's lungs were not sufficiently recovered to deal with a situation like this.

_Damn it Starsk, you should've told me yesterday, I would've kept you off the streets. Not that you would've listened. You probably wouldn't want me to handle this murder case at the arena on my own. But I'm a big boy Starsk. _He sighed and thought of their current predicament. _"Good thing you told me now, partner…'cos I'm not gonna let you die in here… not if I can help it."_

"Just try to breathe easy, Starsk."

His partner nodded and did what was told.

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**Chapter 3**

Somehow Hutch had dozed off. It was so easy to fall asleep, to drift away in that peaceful comforting state of oblivion. But the moment he fell asleep, alarm bells started ringing in his head and kept tugging at him, urging him to swim to the surface, to open his eyes. Blinking, he finally managed to stay awake by sheer willpower.

He looked sideways. His partner was still leaning against the wall, his face pale, his breathing shallow. The fog had settled everywhere and the room had disappeared into strands of white cotton. The strands reached out and touched them with cold fingers that left them shivering. Hutch felt as if something alive was sucking away the breathable atmosphere and left them gasping as it pulled back into the black corners of the room. "Starsk," he whispered.

Starsky opened his eyes slightly. Blue eyes appeared from beneath water-filled eyebrows. Hutch reached out with shaking hands, cold from lack of oxygen. He grabbed his partner's shoulder and felt little tremors shoot through the smaller man's body. Tremors of cold. Tremors of fear.

"I'm … hungry." Starsky whispered, sounding a lot like a little boy lost.

Hutch didn't smile, but instead pulled him into an embrace and let his partner's head rest against his shoulder. He looked at his pocket watch. Eight hours gone. Where the hell was the cavalry?

"Hang in there partner." He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him and the room started spinning.

"At least… there's more air left for you… if I'm…" Starsky wheezed into his ear.

"Don't!" Hutch commanded. "Don't say it!"

"Hutch."

"Yeah."

"I'm sleepy… Can I sleep now?"

"Starsk." His cries became more frantic when he felt his partner relaxing against his shoulder. Ignoring the pain in his own lungs he tried to move his partner's head up but Starsky was unconscious. "Starsky," he hissed, frightened.

Suddenly there was a sizzling sound, a burning smell, the pumps stopped, and the lights went out.

Hutch tightened his hold on Starsky as silence descended. So far he had managed to keep his fears in check, but now the helplessness of the situation hit him hard as he felt his partner's body fighting for every breath. Hutch wasn't a man to cry easily, but he couldn't help but let a tear sneak out.

"Hang on buddy. Hang on."

Severe dizzy spells hit him and Hutch's lungs suddenly burned with a stabbing pain. In reflex his fist closed, clenching the leather of his partner's jacket. He gasped, fear taking hold, and he forced himself to calm down and get his breathing under meditative control. Then he noticed something else. Starsky's tremors had stopped, along with his breathing.

Terrified Hutch touched his partner's face. "Starsk!"

Starsky had trusted him. Trusted him enough to rely on Hutch's convincing statement that help would get to them in time, to just sit here and wait. In desperation he tried to rouse his partner, but the movement almost caused him to lose consciousness. He hung on by a thread and found that he could still breathe … _He_ could still breathe.

Hutch closed his eyes, shutting out the darkness surrounding him and concentrated. This was one fight Starsky was _not_ going to lose. He took a deep breath, ignored the pain in his body, closed his partner's nose with two fingers and put his mouth over his partner's. Slowly he blew the lifesaving oxygen into the other's lungs. A dizzy spell hit Hutch as his own body desperately tried to hang on to the rapidly depleting air. But he ignored it.

He repeated the process. Starsky's chest moved under his hand when he blew more air into his mouth. Hutch managed to do it again. And again.

Until the air was almost gone.

His body now ached, screaming for air, desperately craving the life-giving oxygen. But he didn't give in. His ears filled with a rushing sound. He kept his eyes closed as the room was permanently spinning. He was fighting unconsciousness, but he was not giving up. Not if every breath meant his partner lived a few seconds longer.

And Hutch fought. He fought to breathe for two, and every breath he managed to catch he gave to his partner. His hands and legs were tingling from oxygen deprivation. He was getting tired.

It wouldn't be long now.

Hutch felt Starsky stir. The sudden movement made him open his eyes. Somewhere an emergency red light had switched on, basking the whole room in an unreal red glow. He could feel the water on his skin and his wet blond hair drooping around his eyes. Nothing came into focus, except for his partner's face. Starsky had opened his eyes and licked his lips.

"Hutch…" His voice was soft, but Hutch heard it nonetheless, despite the rushing sound in his ears, like a whisper hidden in the sound of ocean waves. "You know… I love ya, but… not… like… that."

Hutch managed to give him a smile, before his head sank on top of his partner's. He never heard the outside door opening. He closed his eyes and let the cold fingers of darkness carry him away.

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**  
Chapter 4**

Starsky and Hutch were sitting in the ambulance that stood parked next to the Torino, outside the now wide-open outer door leading into the machine room. Both of them wore oxygen masks.

Huggy stood worried in front of the open ambulance's back doors, staring at Starsky, who was sitting at the doorway, with his feet resting on the street. "Man, if I hadn't figured out where you were in time…" His voice trailed off as he obviously contemplated the consequences. "Dobey had a fit when Ellen Forbes called him from the Arena and asked why you two hadn't returned to the stadium yet to talk to her. You told her you'd only be away for a few hours. Good thing the Cap knows my number."

Against his better judgement, Starsky took off his mask and let it dangle around his neck and spoke softly. "Thanks Hug, we owe you one."

"Is he gonna be all right?"

Starsky followed Huggy's gaze to the blond, who sat in the far right side corner of the ambulance on a stretcher. With elevated knees and both feet on the mattress, Hutch was leaning into the metal inside wall of the ambulance for support, slowly inhaling and exhaling through the oxygen mask with closed eyes.

"Yeah," he answered a bit slurred and turned to face the bar owner again. "Listen, can you find Dobey? Tell him what happened?"

Huggy just nodded and left.

It was extremely tempting to just sit here and let the healing oxygen find its way into his body, as Hutch was doing right now. But that wasn't in his nature. He had done all the sitting still he cared for in the past hours. Besides Starsky had the feeling his partner needed him. He looked over his shoulder to the quiet, unmoving man sitting in the back and slowly got up.

Unable to suppress a cough he proceeded to carefully make his way over to the stretcher. Grateful for the support he leaned on it with both hands. He had tried not to upset his own lungs too much, but this little exercise left him severely out of breath. His strained lungs demanded he put the mask back on and he momentarily obeyed as a wave off dizziness threatened to engulf him. But as soon as he felt his strength returning he threw caution to the wind, lowered the mask again and softly began to speak.

"Hey."

Hutch remained unresponsive, chest rising up and down as he took in the pure oxygen. He just sat there in silence, clutching the life saving mask and breathing in and out.

Starsky took a few deep breaths. His partner giving him his own oxygen had really made the difference and he actually started to feel a bit better. However, it didn't make him any less anxious about the whole situation. He couldn't help but feel a slight anger at what Hutch willingly had done and at the suffering the blond was going through now because of it.

"That was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled, giving me your air. You could've killed yourself."

He wasn't finished saying what he had to say, but he found himself out of breath and was forced to stop. His partner slightly shifted and raised his arm to signal he needed some more time.

Taking the opportunity to think things through as he was still trying to get his head around the unselfish love Hutch was capable of giving to him, Starsky obliged, but not for long.

"Next time, buddy, you keep it for yourself."

The words got through. Hutch opened his eyes, slowly raised his head and tore off the mask. When he spoke, his voice was raw. "No chance in hell Starsk, not if it means saving your life."

Starsky stared at him quite calm now, breathing a lot easier than he had a few moments ago, knowing he would have done the same if the situation had been reversed. "Well, in that case," he said, feeling some of his optimism returning. "I hate to tell you this, Blintz, but a breath mint is something you could very well use."

Hutch glared at him. "I thought you were unconscious?"

"I was, mostly." Starsky smiled wickedly. "Actually," he started teasing and licked his lips again. "I'm beginning to understand why girls find you such an irresistible, attractive…"

"Starsk!" Hutch's eyes would have shot fire if they hadn't been as clouded as they still were and he raised the famous Hutchinson finger.

Starsky's smile faded and he looked past the finger into dulled blue eyes. _Whatever did I do to deserve you?_ His thoughts translated into his next words."Thanks partner."

Hutch lowered his finger and warmth returned in his voice "You're welcome." He closed his eyes and leaned into the metal wall again. As he put the oxygen mask back on he murmured, "And try not to put so much garlic sauce on your burritos next time."

Starsky just looked at Hutch for a moment, before reaching out with his hand and gently placing it on the blond's cheek. "Anything you say partner."

Hutch pried open one eye.

Starsky just nodded and pulled his hand back. His partner closed his eye again and resumed inhaling the air he so desperately needed.

"What do you mean, you had some _small_ business to attend to in that basement!"

Upon hearing Dobey yell at the bartender, Starsky smiled and plunged himself into a nearby chair.

"Mice racing! Your little enterprise could've gotten my men killed! Why couldn't you just meet up with them on the streets, like normal snitches do?"

"Now, now Cap'n…"

Starsky briefly wondered if he should come to the rescue. _Nope, let Huggy handle the Cap for a minute_, he thought, feeling grateful that Dobey vented his frustration on the innocent bartender instead of on his detectives. _Yup,_ he thought and with that, he shut out the whole world, put on the mask and finally feeling save to do so, promptly fell asleep.

**The End**

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